Threescore and nine years ago . . .
Reports ROGER ANDERSON of St. Paul: Ã¢â‚¬Å“In observance of V-J Day, Sept. 2, I enclose a photo of my father’s outfit taken on that date in 1945, near Manila (Dad Ã¢â‚¬â€ Norman Anderson Ã¢â‚¬â€ is at far left, second row). They were in Company C, 596th Signal Aircraft Battalion, Ã¢â‚¬Ëœthe best darn light radar outfit in the Southwest Pacific Area.Ã¢â‚¬â„¢
Ã¢â‚¬Å“He wrote that day to his mother: Ã¢â‚¬ËœWe heard the dramatic surrender of the Japanese in Tokyo Bay. I was wondering if you too heard it over the radio. It certainly was the thing we all had been looking forward to. I went to church this evening. They hold services every Sunday night. After that there was a full dress formation called and the Chaplain gave a short talk on the surrender and the peace thereafter. The radio too was jammed with the surrender signing details. I had a couple letters from you and [his sister] Betty. Betty was telling of the celebration they had in St. Paul the 14th of last month. IÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ll bet that was a thrill that will never be forgotten. It wasnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t near so elaborate where we are but nevertheless it was welcomed in a manner equal mentally to any other celebrating.Ã¢â‚¬â„¢
Ã¢â‚¬Å“The back of the photo is inscribed: Ã¢â‚¬ËœIn memoriam.Ã¢â‚¬â„¢ Ã¢â‚¬?

Friday email: “The Farmer’s Daughter of Blaine also has a few memories of the race cars at the Fairgrounds — only this was back in 1949, when the dust would come over the bleachers as the cars went around and around.

“I don’t know when they went to the blacktop track [Bulletin Board says: The dirt track was paved with asphalt in 1964], but I’m sure for most Fair-goers, it couldn’t have been soon enough.

“My folks would park the Model A in the area of the Grandstand, so my brother and I could find the car during the day. Mom would pack enough food for the day; all we bought at the Fair was an ice cream cone or sandwich for dessert. Hence, when I go to the Fair, I always bring my own food and still buy my favorite treat, ice cream.

“Old habits die hard.

“I will stand in the same spot by the Grandstand, and I can almost feel the sand and see the Model A and the memories of a good day at the Fair with my hard-working parents from the farm.”

“When I was 16, my summer job (between my junior and senior years of high school) was as a nurses’ aide at a St. Paul hospital (named after a ‘healing pool’ in the Bible). My mom was a well-respected O.R. nurse by that time, and I suppose some nepotism was in place. They probably thought I had the same qualities of toughness and care-giving as my mom. Well … I had the care-giving thing down, but not the toughness, I found out as the summer months went by.

“The older aides liked to kid around, baiting the younger aides and having a good laugh at their expense. For instance: The first week I worked the floor after my ‘training,’ I was sent down to the supply room to get a ‘sterile fallopian tube,’ which I obediently went to fetch and was duly laughed out of the supply room!

“My next experience in this ‘fun’ was in the hospital dining room. During one of my first lunchtimes there, I thought the meatloaf looked really good and was about to put a plate of it on my tray. ‘Oh God!’ whispered an older aide who was in line next to me, ‘don’t take the meatloaf!’

” ‘Why not?’ I asked.

” ‘Because this is a hospital. Do you know what they add to the meatloaf mix?’ she whispered, a knowing, horrified look on her face.

“I immediately lost my appetite for meatloaf, while visions of ground-up human organs and body parts tumbled through my mind. I opted for a grilled-cheese sandwich instead.

“I’m sure that aide laughed with her friends in the break room that afternoon, but I never could bring myself to eat the meatloaf there.”

Our times

horsiegoboom of River Falls, Wis.: “Nellie (mentioning people checking their ‘cellphone gizmos’) asked: ‘Gosh, what if I got a cellphone and nobody called me?’

“Maybe nobody WILL call you. They might TEXT you. She DID say they were looking down. It wasn’t attached to their ear.

“Talking on a cellphone, smart or otherwise, seems old-fashioned now … and I’m a fogey! I don’t even bother to call my son now. If I text him, he usually answers within a minute.”

“We were visiting my first cousin in Tonsberg, Norway, in 1997, when cellphones were still quite expensive. She told us that she was walking down the street near a man speaking loudly into his cellphone, trying to impress people. All of a sudden the phone rang!

“The man looked embarrassed, wasn’t impressive and turned the corner as soon as he could!”

Vanity, thy name is…

Red’s Offspring, north of St. Paul: “The personalized plate on the Honda presents readers with options: ‘HAVIN A.’ ”

Great comebacks

Auntie Omi: “Nora was having a birthday party. I was near the table with the snacks. Her mom, in the kitchen, asked if more cheese balls were needed. I said: ‘The bowl is half full’ — to which she replied: ‘Oh, you’re an optimist!’ ”

Here we go again…

IGHGrampa: “Another politician just ‘approved this message.’ They’ve all been using that phrase for such a long time now. Who said it first? [Bulletin Board says: Does it really matter?] Do politicians use it everywhere around the U.S.? [Bulletin Board says: Yes, they do.] Another one just said it again, less than five minutes later.

“Speaking as another disgruntled guy, I’d like to see them stop ‘approving messages’ and start getting some real work done. And I approve of that message.”

Those who can, can (cont.)

Bloomington Bird Lady: “Tim Torkildson‘s Aunt Cecilia and her ancient-canned-goods feast [BB, 8/24/2014] brought back memories of when we helped clean out my in-laws’ home, years ago. They lived on their gravel-pit property, so there was ample room for a large garden, and even a piglet or two to raise for butchering.

“In the early years, everything was nicely preserved in Mason jars; shelves of lovely pickles, green beans and peaches looked delicious.

“Fast-forward to years later, when freezers were the thing — and the bigger, the better. They bought a 10-foot-long, way-too-deep chest-type variety, and thus began years of ‘putting up’ meat, packages of vegetables, and even homemade pies.

“As years passed, they were no longer quite so spry, and couldn’t even reach into the recesses where those cold packages piled up. ‘New’ was piled on top of ‘old’ for years, and what was on the bottom was now a mystery.

“End-of-life scenario that so many kids must go through: ‘Let’s see what’s down in the freezer!’ Well, it’s darned cold with your head down in something that large, filled with mostly unmarked packages that would need to be opened to identify, and then decide what to do with it all. Being next to a gravel pit, with acres to use, the kids dug a large hole a ways from the house and buried the mysterious packages.

“Remember the lovely Mason jars? The kids had no idea how old those were, either, so again, away from the house, a huge pile of glass and preserves had gasoline poured over it, and voila! All that work went up in smoke!”

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